A Sherlockian Romance
by False Premise
Summary: Sequel to Sherlockian Seduction. Scenes of established romance (Sherlock/John) set to the background of "The Hounds of Baskerville" episode 2 series 2. Obviously I don't own BBC Sherlock. Rated for themes.
1. Chapter 1

_**Sequel to Sherlockian Seduction. Scenes of established romance set to the background of "The Hounds of Baskerville" episode 2 series 2. "The Hounds of Baskerville" continues as canon except Sherlock and John are a couple. I won't be duplicating scenes that would stay the same but I will ensure that you can follow the plot. **_

John sat in his chair, newspaper folded and forgotten on his lap. Sherlock knelt next to John's chair, his blue eyes piercing into John's soul, "So… are you up for it?"

"Are you serious?" John asked slowly and carefully.

"Yes!" Sherlock shouted manically.

"Of course you are…" John sighed shaking his head, "No, Sherlock, no. There is a line…"

"Dammit, John!" Sherlock exclaimed, leaping up and pacing back and forth in front of John, "Where's the exhibitionist I fell in love with?"

"I never said I was an exhibitionist, Sherlock." John countered firmly.

"You never had to say it…" Sherlock replied.

John ignored this comment sighing and closing his eyes briefly with effort that ignoring Sherlock takes, "What you're suggesting is illegal. Someone would take a photo. We'd almost certainly be caught and because it is us we'd be arrested. You're a public figure now. It'd be splashed all over every newspaper. People would stop coming to you for help. Your cases would dry up for good and then you'd truly go insane…and then so would I."

Sherlock sighed and paced faster, "If you're not up for it what am I supposed to do? I'm bored, John."

"I've been up for it three times this morning already!" John answered frowning, "Just not in public with a wide audience. The problem isn't our sex life. The problem is that you need a new case. Have you checked the website?"

Sherlock picked up his laptop, flipped it open and read from the website in a mocking tone, "Kirsty Stapleton aged 8; I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please, can you help…"

"Bluebell?" John asked hopefully.

"A rabbit!" Sherlock shouted and then continued reading from the website in his mocking tone, "Bluebell started to glow at nighttime. Like a fairy… Ah! I need a real case John!"

Just then there was a knock on the door.

"Well, let's hope that's one now," John said as he walked towards the door adding under his breath, "Or I'm going to go quietly insane…"

John kept glancing hopefully at Sherlock while Henry Knight told his story. It was often difficult to read Sherlock in these situations. Of course, Sherlock showed no consideration for Henry's feelings and tried to hurry him along in telling his story but that was fairly typical. Henry explained that his therapist Dr Mortimer had encouraged him to face his traumatic memories of his father dying at Dewer's Hollow in Dartmoor when he was a child. Naturally, Sherlock also seized upon the opportunity to show off, recounting Henry's whole morning for him in detail. But that too was typical. Was this an interesting case for Sherlock or not? Just when John was starting to resign himself to the idea that Sherlock was going to dismiss this case Sherlock shocked him with his sudden interest, "What did you say? Word for word"

"Ah," Henry Knight replied startled, "They were the footprints of a…gigantic…hound"

Sherlock grinned with delight, "I'll take the case."


	2. Chapter 2

John was relieved to be able to leave Baskerville. It was a lucky twist of fate that Dr Franklin had helped them to escape by pretending that he recognised Sherlock as Mycroft. Sometimes John wondered why he went along with Sherlock's crazy plans. Then again, being right in the thick of one of Sherlock's crazy plans was so much fun. So clearly, he was just as crazy as Sherlock was.

"Sherlock," John asked as they approached their car, "Did we just break into Baskerville to investigate a missing glowing rabbit?"

Sherlock flipped the collar of his trench coat up and continued walking without even acknowledging John's question.

"Oh, no. Can we not do this, this time? I think we're a bit beyond this…"

"Do what?" Sherlock asked innocently as if he didn't understand.

"You being all cute and mysterious with your cheekbones and turning up your collar so you look cool and sexy…you're trying to impress me…"

"I don't do that!" Sherlock countered putting on an air of offence.

John sighed, "Yeah you do"

"No I don't" Sherlock continued their argument as they reached the car.

"Oh yes you do," John answered as he climbed into the driver's seat. There were a few moments of silence as John started the engine and began to drive out onto the road.

Then Sherlock replied with a cheeky grin, "Its working though, isn't it? You're impressed?"

John laughed, "I'd be more impressed if you actually communicated with me, Sherlock. You know what that is, don't you? It is when you open your mouth and words come out and these words let me, the love of your life, know what's going on inside that massive head of yours."

Sherlock ignored this smiled teasingly, "_**cute**_ and mysterious…cool and_**sexy**_…you think I'm cute when I'm mysterious, John?"

John chuckled and shook his head as Sherlock continued, "You think I'm sexy when I'm busy unravelling a case in my own particular enigmatic style?"

John flushed slightly as he kept chuckling softly, "Shut up".

Sherlock leant across to John, putting his hand on John's thigh and kissing John lightly on his ear his hot breath tickling John's neck, "Am I sexy now, John?"

"Stop that!" John flinched.

"Give me one good reason…" Sherlock whispered his hot breath continuing to tease.

"I'm trying to drive," John laughed, "dying in a car accident would be a bit of an inconvenience."

Sherlock laughed as he pulled back from John, "Most inconvenient. I haven't solved this case yet."

"Ah, yes. Our bloody, gruesome deaths would be inconvenient because it would leave an unsolved case."

Sherlock tutted, "You know it's not the only reason. But, yes"

"Well," John replied as he changed lanes, "Let's solve the case before either of us dies, huh? So we broke into Baskerville to investigate a missing rabbit that glowed like a fairy. What have we learnt?"

"Well," Sherlock answered carefully, "We know Dr Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments. The question is; has she performed them on anything more deadly than a rabbit?"

"To be fair," John replied with a deadpan expression, "that's a wide field."

Sherlock snorted and the pair lapsed into silence.

"_**Enigmatic **_style?" John mused as they arrived at their hotel, "I'd tease you about that one but it's actually a pretty apt description"

"I thought so…" Sherlock grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thanks for the reviews! I love feedback. It makes my day to know someone out there is reading and enjoying this. This chapter is a bit longer. Enjoy!**_

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" John called out but there was no reply. He sighed. Why did he keep going along with Sherlock's mad ideas? Oh, yes, let's take a stroll around Dewer's Hollow in the dark with Henry Knight and see if the monster turns up to attack him. Great plan. Then, of course, Sherlock doesn't bother to stay near John or anything. It isn't as if John's ever done anything like, I don't know, save Sherlock's life. No, he strides off with Henry Knight. He strides off with the bait; the bait!

Just then, John saw a light bleeping regularly in the distance. His army training kicked in and he jotted down what he figured must be morse code " A". He frowned. He hadn't the least idea what that could mean but he knew that he'd better show Sherlock, "Sherlock!" John continued walking around Dewer's Hollow in the moonlight until he heard Henry Knight's scream. Then, he ran. He sighed in relief when he saw Sherlock alive and well. Not surprisingly, Henry was babbling about seeing the hound but John knew the Hound wasn't real because Sherlock denied seeing it.

It took all of John's clinical skills to settle Henry down for the night. Exhausted, he found Sherlock in the hotel's lounge next to the fireplace. John sat down next to Sherlock and told him about Henry's state of mind. Sherlock continued to stare into the fire. John mentioned the morse code. Sherlock continued to stare into the fire.

Suddenly, Sherlock started as if he had only just realised that John was sitting beside him. He pierced John with his gaze and said, "Henry's right…I saw it too…"

John was so shocked he could barely register what Sherlock had just said. He repeated slowly, "you saw it?"

"Yes!" hissed Sherlock, "the hound!"

"You saw a demonic hound?"

"Yes!" Sherlock hissed again, "A huge demonic hound with red burning eyes. I saw it."

Just when John thought that nothing Sherlock could say or do would surprise him…

John took a deep breath and tried to calm his lover, "Sherlock, darling, we have to be rational about this. You of all people… Look, let's just stick to what we know, let's stick to the facts…"

But Sherlock wouldn't calm. He continued shaking and pronounced with a manic cry, "Once you've ruled out the impossible whatever remains however improbable must be true."

John stared at Sherlock, desperately trying to understand what was happening with his lover, "I don't know what that even means"

Sherlock tried to take a sip of his drink but both Sherlock and John could see that his glass was shaking violently, "Look at me, John, I'm afraid. I've always been able to keep myself distant. Well, not always, but I've learnt to compensate for you. I've always been able to keep myself distant from my cases. Yet, you see, my body is betraying me. Interesting things emotions, aren't they? The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment…"

"Alright, don't go all Spock on me" John said reaching out and taking Sherlock's shaking hands, "Just take a deep breath."

Obediently Sherlock took a big, shaky breath and his shaking body started to still. He looked deep into John's eyes and held John's hands tightly.

"Okay, you with me now?" John asked softly.

"Yes, John, thank-you" Sherlock replied, sounding more like his usual self. He squeezed John's hand and enjoyed the feeling of safety that holding his lover's hands always created.

"You've been wired lately, you know you have," John said in the steady, calm voice that he usually used to break bad news to patients, "I think you've gone out there and gotten yourself worked up"

"Worked up?" Sherlock shouted in disgust dropping John's hands quickly, "Worked up?"

John sighed and leant back in his chair shaking his head, "Oh, of course, you're not going to listen to me, are you? Why would you? I'm only your partner…"

"Exactly," Sherlock shouted his voice dripping with anger, "You were the first piece of grit on the lens. Maybe I haven't learnt to compensate for you after all. Maybe our relationship has compromised my objectivity. Maybe this was a mistake."

John's eyes flashed with anger, "Well I'm not going to stay here and listen to this," John shouted as he stormed out leaving Sherlock to stare at the fireplace and continue to stew.

Later that night Sherlock crept into their room like a dog with his tail between his legs and found John lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, "Hello, Sherlock" John said without looking at him.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be here or not," Sherlock answered meekly, "I mean I was almost certain you would be but you were very upset…"

"Well I was just wondering if I needed to come back down and try to find you." John answered, sitting up on the bed and turning to look at Sherlock, "Listen, after thinking about it I realised that you were really scared, terrified in fact, and I didn't do a very good job of listening to you. If you really meant what you said about our relationship being a mistake, well, I'll leave and you'll never hear from me again…"

Sherlock made a strangled noise at this and John continued, "But it occurred to me that maybe you didn't mean it like that. In which case I'm willing to just forget about it and move on."

Sherlock strode across the room, grabbed John in his arms and kissed him passionately. He met John's eyes with his intense gaze, "John, you're the piece of grit I want on my lens."

John laughed, "That sounds oddly like a sexual innuendo, Sherlock."

John and Sherlock both giggled hysterically and the mood in the room shifted.

"John, I'm sorry I hurt you," Sherlock whispered, fingering John's shirt and sitting next to him on the bed.

"You say stupid things sometimes, Sherlock," John replied with emotion, "But if I couldn't look past that we wouldn't be together at all."

Sherlock nodded, "Well, I'm still sorry. It's just, I'm scared, John. I'm so scared."

"Of the monster?" John asked carefully, determined to listen this time.

"No," Sherlock laughed, "Not of the monster. I'm scared because I feel… doubt. Doubt, John. I can't trust my own senses."

John nodded slowly, "I can understand why you'd find that terrifying. But you can't believe that you saw a monster?"

"No," Sherlock replied, "I can't believe that. But I did see it. So the question is how?"

John frowned and there was a moment or two of silence while they both pondered the question.

"How about, for now, you turn that great brain of yours towards another pressing question?" John asked with a cheeky smile.

"Oh?" Sherlock replied, playing along with John's game.

"Yes, how are you going to apologise to me?" John asked.

"Don't you mean how are you going to apologise to me?" Sherlock laughed.

"Well, how are we both going to apologise to each other then?" John countered.

"Now that I can answer," Sherlock grinned as he leant in for a kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

John could tell straight away from the feel of the bed that Sherlock was no longer in it. He could hear the gentle footfalls of Sherlock pacing so he knew that he was still in the room, no doubt pondering the case. He opened his eyes carefully to see Sherlock dressed and ready for the day leaning over him.

"Ah, you're awake!" Sherlock exclaimed, " UMQRA!"

"What?" John asked drowsily rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"UMQRA!" Sherlock continued enthusiastically waving John's own notebook at him, "The morse code from last night, remember? You jotted it down or as you yourself note on the next page it could be an acronym U. M. Q. R. A."

"Forget about the morse code. It's a dead end. Do you often help yourself to my notebook?" John asked yawning.

"All the time, John. U. M. Q. R. A. an acronym…but for what?" Sherlock continued to muse.

"Forget about the morse code," John repeated as he jumped out of bed and walked towards the bathroom, "It's a dead end. I must stop taking notes on your annoying habits in that notebook then."

"No need, it's very useful data, helps me improve our relationship," Sherlock answered as he continued to consider the morse code. John frowned at this but seemed to decide that he could find no objection to Sherlock improving their relationship even if by unusual methods. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar. A few moments later the toilet flushed.

Sherlock shouted, "An acronym… aha! That's it!"

"What's it?" John opened the bathroom door again and garbled with a toothbrush in his mouth.

"What if it wasn't hound but H.O.U.N.D.?" Sherlock asked. John shrugged and returned to the bathroom to gargle. Sherlock continued his musing, "H.O.U.N.D. Does that mean something? I don't know. Maybe…"

John started up the shower. Sherlock gazed out the window overlooking the entrance to the hotel and called out over the sound of the water, "John, you have the most remarkable gift of inspiring genius."

"Um…thank-you I think?" John replied over the sound of the shower, adding a few minutes later as he turned off the water and began to dry himself with a towel, "Is this your theory that sexual arousal improves intellectual performance again? Because every time we try to test that we get distracted and frankly I'm beginning to wonder if all that experimentation is just an excuse…"

Sherlock laughed, "No, John, although we do need to perform more experiments because I really think we're on to something there. I mean your entirely wrong idea about the morse code lead me to the no doubt correct idea that hound may be an acronym, H.O.U.N.D"

John frowned as he started pulling on his pants, "Well that's less flattering. What does H.O.U.N.D stand for? "

"No idea. You know," Sherlock mused, continuing to stare out the window, "I've been asking the wrong question. The question isn't how I saw the hound. It is why you didn't. Ah, and that means that…hmmm… "

"That means what?" John asked while buttoning his shirt.

"Nevermind," Sherlock frowned deep in thought. Just as John was about to voice his objection to Sherlock's lack of communication Sherlock added with a shout, "John, look who has arrived, it's Lestrade! Well, it is obvious why he's here. This is ridiculous."

John joined Sherlock at the window and looked at the scene below, "Holiday?"

"No, he's plainly just back from his holiday, John," Sherlock answered before adding angrily, "Well I'm not going to put up with this" and storming out of their room.

John quickly put on his shoes and chased after Sherlock finding him confronting Lestrade in the hotel's lobby.

"So you can tell my brother that I don't need my handler!" Sherlock shouted, "And why on earth are you calling yourself Greg?"

"First of all, I'm not the Holmes family messenger pigeon and second of all, that's my name," Lestrade answered assertively.

"My dear brother needs to learn that…what?" Sherlock paused in his tirade, Lestrade's answer taking him by surprise.

"I'm not a messenger pigeon and my name is Greg," Lestrade repeated.

"Is it?" Sherlock asked, seeing John and looking to him for confirmation.

John nodded, "I'm afraid so. It is good to see you, Greg. Sherlock's happy to see you too, really. He's just too caught up in being angry with Mycroft to see it; sibling rivalry."

Lestrade nodded and smiled, "Is he? Well that's nice. I'm glad you can interpret him, John."

Sherlock pouted, "Well, he sent my handler, didn't he? He's trying to control me."

"Sherlock," John countered, "We did break into a top secret army base in his name."

Sherlock sniggered, "We did, didn't we? So…clearly, I'm still winning."

John shook his head and turned back to Lestrade, "Actually, you could be quite useful. I found receipts for some pretty huge quantities of meat and this is meant to be a vegetarian restaurant. It could have something to do with the hound. Would you mind having a word to the owners and a look at their books? A big, scary inspector from Scotland Yard should be help us get to the bottom of it…"

Lestrade used his menacing inspector routine to get the owners to confess that they were fuelling the hound hysteria by keeping a large dog on the moors. But, according to the owners they had to put the dog down so this didn't explain Henry Knight and Sherlock seeing the hound the night before. While Lestrade questioned the owners Sherlock and John watched from across the room and Sherlock kept offering John a cup of coffee.

"Are you sure you don't want this coffee, John?" Sherlock whispered.

"I don't really feel like coffee just now, Sherlock."

"I've already made it."

John sighed, "Oh, alright. If it'll shut you up" John took a sip and grimaced, "I don't take sugar."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't. Sherlock, how does your mind work? You can deduce a stranger's profession from the dirt on their left shoe but you can't remember Lestrade's given name and you make me, the love of your life, a coffee with sugar."

Sherlock frowned, "The sugar makes it taste better. You'll prefer it."

"I don't prefer it."

"Well drink it anyway. It is good for you." Sherlock countered.

"Sugar is good for me? I must have missed that in medical training." John whispered.

"Just drink it," Sherlock hissed.

"Well alright since it seems to matter so much," John answered taking another sip and grimacing, "But you're up to something and I'm going to find out what it is."

"Sure you are…"


	5. Chapter 5

_**Apologies for the delay. This was a tricky chapter to write because I had to progress the Hounds plotline a fair bit. Hopefully you are managing to follow along the general Hounds plotline okay without me repeating every detail and boring you all senseless. If you are reading and enjoying please consider leaving a review. All feedback is welcome. **_

Waltzing into Baskerville the first time, under false pretences, was thrilling. But being able to waltz in again, officially on Mycroft's say so, that was thrilling in a whole different way. Sherlock and John soon split up, each of them searching the labs for anything suspicious that may explain the existence of the hound.

John searched methodically, his years of army training kicking in. Lab after lab contained rows of animal cages. Waking past the animal cages it was getting easier and easier for John to believe that Baskerville was the source of the hound. Suddenly, the lights dimmed and a siren started. John tried to leave but found himself trapped in the room. John groaned. He hated feeling trapped and the damn siren felt like it was burning a hole through his brain. Just as suddenly, the siren stopped. But John still couldn't get out of the lab. He cursed. Then, he heard it. Oh, dear God, he heard it…. The clicking sound of claws on the hard laboratory floor, the great snorting breaths… The hound was here.

John's heart hammered in his chest as he ducked out of sight into one of the large animal cages that had a massive sheet over it. He hid in the cage, peaking out in the cracks of the sheet and trying not to panic. He dialled Sherlock and Sherlock answered. John tried to swallow back his fear before whispering, "it's here…it's in here with me…"

"Where are you?" Sherlock answered and John's heart surged with hope. As foolish as it made him feel to realise it John wanted Sherlock to rescue him. He wanted Sherlock to stampede in on a great white horse and scoop him up into his arms. He wanted to bury himself in Sherlock's arms and be safe.

"Get me out. You've got to get me out. I'm in the lab, the first lab that we saw" John whispered desperately.

"John, it's alright. I'll find you. I need you to keep talking."

"I can't. The hound will hear me," John stammered as the claws continued to click across the floor. God, it sounded like the clicking was coming closer.

"You have to keep talking, John. Can you see it? Tell me what you can see."

"Hear it." John gulped. The clicking really was coming closer. John could hear the breathing and growling. It was angry.

"But can you see it? I will get you out. I promise you John. You trust me, don't you, John? I'd never let anything happen to you, my love, and I never will. But I need you to take a peak and tell me exactly what you see."

John gulped and, obediently, against all his instincts, he peaked. "I can see it. Oh, Sherlock it is huge, red eyes, glowing…please, Sherlock help me…"

Suddenly the cover over the cage was yanked free and Sherlock stood at the cage door, "You're safe, John."

"Sherlock!" John gasped as he threw is arms around him and then, just as quickly let go again and took a combat stance, his eyes darting around the room, "But where's the hound? Did you see it? You must have seen it."

"There's no hound, John."

"I saw it!"

"And I saw it last night. But it wasn't there then either. There is no hound."

"But, but...I saw it. It was huge, glowing with red burning eyes."

"John, I made up the bit about the glowing. There's no hound. You're safe."

John seemed to accept this and nodded, calming, "Explain to me how I saw it then?"

"We've been drugged," Sherlock grinned, delighted to reveal his now proven theory, as he pulled a small bag of white crystals from his pocket, "Is the microscope set up Dr Stapleton?"

John started as he saw Dr Stapleton waiting patiently just metres away from himself and Sherlock, "All ready."

Sherlock nodded and placed some of the white powder onto a slide, "I'll show you, John. It was easy to figure out once I started asking the right question. Why didn't you see the hound that night?"

"Ok…"

Sherlock carefully placed the slide onto the microscope and adjusted the lens, looking through at the slide, "No. This is wrong…No, no. This doesn't make sense."

"What is it?" Dr Stapleton asked her curiosity getting the better of her.

Sherlock frowned, "Its sugar, nothing but sugar. It doesn't make sense. How else could we have been drugged?" He began to pace, "We were drugged. It is the only thing that makes sense and it has something to do with H.O.U.N.D. I need to use a computer."

Dr Stapleton pointed to the nearest computer and Sherlock jumped on. John followed, looking over his shoulder. "Now, I'll need to logon as Barrymore. He'll have the best access."

"But you don't know his password." John replied.

"Don't I, John?" Sherlock answered, "I've been in his office." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

"What's he doing?" Dr Stapleton asked John.

"Thinking."

"It's maggie," replied Sherlock while typing, "As in Margaret Thatcher. He had more biographies of Maggie on his bookshelf than anything else." A moment later Sherlock was in and looking up H.O.U.N.D. "I was right. We have been drugged. H.O.U.N.D. was the name of a project in Liberty, Indiana; chemical warfare, a disorientating weapon, fear and stimulus. The project was shut down but someone has been continuing the experiments. Ah, look at this photo of the team…" Sherlock continued pointing at a young man toward the back of a team photo as John and Dr Stapleton leaned forward to see.

"Oh!" Dr Stapleton exclaimed, "That's Bob. Bob Franklin!"

"Franklin? He's the guy that pretended to know you were Mycroft isn't he? Helped get us out of here that first time?"

Sherlock nodded and flicked to the next page reading about the experiments in greater depth, "Ah, I see. Aerial dispersal…. Of course, it is in the moors themselves, the mist and the pipes in this room, they must leak. It wasn't in the sugar at all."

"In the sugar?" John repeated, "Wait! You thought the drug was in the sugar? You made me drink that sugar in my coffee!"

"Ah," Sherlock looked nervous, "Now John don't be upset. I needed to do a little experiment to prove my theory. It was all very safe. Laboratory conditions, literally."

"What? Haven't you ever heard of consent?" John exclaimed.

"You gave your consent," Sherlock replied carefully, "You've clearly said on numerous occasions that I can perform whatever experiments I want on you. Just last night you said, 'Sherlock I'm yours I'll do anything you want me to do, anytime at all'"

Dr Stapleton coughed politely and John shook his head, "First of all, I meant sexual experiments and you know it and secondly, that's just the kind of thing one says in the heat of the moment. I didn't mean it literally."

"Oh? Well that's disappointing." Sherlock frowned, "Well, anyway, we needed to do this experiment to solve the case. I couldn't tell you about it beforehand because that would have biased the results. We both know you would have consented if I could have asked you. A man's life and sanity is at stake."

John sighed. He continued to look disgruntled but he was clearly coming around. Sherlock strode forward, scooped him into his arms and kissed him, his lips brushing John's gently and softly until John's posture softened into Sherlock's and he groaned. "Besides," Sherlock whispered, "I'll make up for it later with some of those sexual experiments you're so fond of."

John blushed slightly, "Mind you do."

Just then John's phone rang. John's face was white as a ghost as he hung up. "That was Henry Knight's therapist, Dr Mortimer. He's heading to the Hollow and he's got a gun. She's not sure what he might do. We've got to get there and stop him. Oh, and lets ring Lestrade on the way. We'll need him there too."


	6. Chapter 6

_**The plot of Hound needs to be brought to a climax so this chapter is quite heavy with that. I hope there has been enough reminders of the basic Hound plot and characters for you all to follow without getting bored. **_

John, Sherlock and Lestrade ran onto the moors towards Dewer's Hollow and were met with a scene that caused their hearts to pound and their blood to run cold. Henry was stumbling through the mist, clutching a gun and as they watched he placed the barrel of the gun towards his own head.

"No!" all three shouted simultaneously as they ran towards Henry.

Henry turned towards them; his face wet with tears and spluttered, "I know what I am. I know what I tried to do. " He choked on his tears and lowered the gun for a moment, "I blanked out. I tried to kill Dr Mortimer. There's something wrong with me. I killed my dad, didn't I? I have to die before I kill anyone else." Henry raised the gun towards his head again, placing the barrel in his mouth.

"No, Henry," Sherlock answered as John and Lestrade both tried to circle around Henry and be ready to take the gun as soon as the opportunity arose, "That's how Dr Franklin explained it to you, isn't it? He was friends with your father, although, they didn't see eye to eye on Baskerville. Dr Franklin worked there and your father was convinced that there was some unsavoury research happening But what Dr Franklin has told you is wrong. He has replaced one lie, the hound, with another. Henry, you saw you father's death yourself. It is time to stop clinging to a child's explanation of the events and remember what really happened here. It wasn't a monster was it? It was a man."

Slowly, Henry lowered the gun and John leapt forward and prised it from his hands. Henry let him take it, "Yes, I remember. It was a man, a man in a mask… with H.O.U.N.D. printed across his chest. He looked like a monster. But, what about last night? We saw the hound last night."

"No. We were drugged. A powerful chemical weapon with the right suggestions and stimulus we'd have seen just about anything. Henry, he's been after you again. He's been trying to drive you crazy to keep you a child clinging onto your child-like explanation because you'd started to remember. You'd started to remember what really happened to your father." Sherlock explained.

Henry nodded, taking in the information and seeming to become calm and rational. Then, suddenly, his whole disposition changed and he became hysterical again. Henry screamed, pointing behind Sherlock, John and Lestrade. Simultaneously, Sherlock, John and Lestrade looked behind. Standing metres away, huge, black and growling was a massive hound with glowing red eyes.

"The hound!" yelled Lestrade.

"I see it. It's here! It's here now!" John called out.

"Alright," Sherlock said firmly with the air of a man trying determinedly to get a grip on a situation spiralling widely out of his control, "We are seeing the hound but it is, in fact, just a dog. It is an ordinary dog."

The dog growled a low, sinister rumbling. Its hackles rose as it did so and it seemed to double in size. It truly looked like a beast from hell.

"Ah, are you sure about that, Sherlock because it looks pretty real to me." John replied with a waver in his voice.

"Of course I'm sure. Trust me. We've been drugged again. It is in the fog. We're in the middle of a chemical minefield. Fear and stimulus… It isn't the dog we need to be careful of its…"

Just then a fifth figure appeared in Dewer's Hollow, a tall man in a gasmask striding right past the terrifying beast and directly towards Henry.

"Oh, no you don't…" Sherlock muttered, leaping towards the figure in the gasmask without regard for the enormous, growling beast at its side. He pulled the gasmask from the figure's head in a clean sweeping motion, revealing his identity. Sherlock struggled with Dr Franklin, eventually managing to punch him in the face and push him onto the ground. Meanwhile, the enormous hound growled again and leapt forwards towards Sherlock and Dr Franklin his long, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Lestrade took action and shot the beast. As the shots rang out and the beast fell it wasn't a fearsome hound lying dead upon the ground. It was just a dog.

"Look, Henry, look!" Sherlock yelled, "It's just an ordinary dog."

Henry stepped towards the great hound, now clearly just an ordinary, dead dog. Tears overflowed his eyes as he understood. A childhood demon was vanquished, "It's just a dog…just a dog…" Then he wiped away his tears and strode towards Sherlock and Dr Franklin. Henry understood. His childhood demon was vanquished but he now had a fight to face as a man, "It was you!" he cried facing Dr Franklin, "You killed my father! He was right all along. Something horrible was happening at Baskerville and you silenced him."

"The research had to go on," Dr Franklin replied.

Henry scoffed, "He was my dad. He was your friend. What I don't understand is why didn't you just kill me?"

"Because dead men get listened to, Henry," Sherlock answered for him, "He had to discredit you to make sure no one ever listened."

Henry nodded and Sherlock continued enthusiastically, "Oh, this case, thank you Henry, it's been brilliant."

"Sherlock…" John chided, "Timing!"

"Not good?" Sherlock asked with a wide-eyed innocence.

"No…not good…" John shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"No it's fine," Henry leapt in, "It's fine. This means that my dad was right. We've proven that my dad was right."

But Henry wasn't able to enjoy this life-changing epiphany long because in that moment, Dr Franklin pulled himself out of Sherlock's grip and made a run for it. Sherlock, John, Henry and Lestrade followed in hot pursuit until Dr Franklin, in his desperation to get away, ran directly into the Baskerville minefield, a fenced off strip of land littered with old mines. Watching from the edge, it almost looked as though Dr Franklin was going to make it but then there was an exposition.

Henry whispered, "Well that's it. I can't say I'm sorry. After all he did."

Lestrade nodded, "It is a fitting end."

Sherlock and John could only agree.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day Sherlock and John sat outside their hotel and enjoyed breakfast. Or rather, John enjoyed a cooked breakfast while Sherlock sipped a cup of tea and nibbled at John's toast.

"So they didn't put down the dog?" Sherlock asked.

"No. They couldn't bring themselves to do it so they just let it lose on the moors. Of course, the deed is done now, isn't it?" John answered between mouthfuls.

Sherlock frowned, "Couldn't bring themselves to do it…hmmm…I see…"

John laughed, "No you don't."

"No I don't," Sherlock agreed.

"It is like you couldn't bring yourself to leave me even though I'm the grit on your lens or whatever it was that you said."

"Ah," Sherlock said nodding, "sentiment."

"Sentiment," John agreed.

The conversation paused while John finished the last of his meal. When he was done he put his knife and fork on his plate and pushed his plate aside. "Don't think I haven't noticed, by the way," John said.

"Noticed what?" Sherlock replied.

"That you were wrong," John answered.

"I was not wrong."

"You thought it was in the sugar. It wasn't in the sugar. You were wrong."

"I thought it was a drug and it was."

"Ah, but you thought the drug was in the sugar and it wasn't. You were wrong."

Sherlock frowned, "Well, it won't happen again."

John smiled, "It happens all the time. So shall we organise our trip home?"

"No," Sherlock answered, "I'd like to stay on another night, maybe two."

"Oh?"

"The moors are an incredible place, hauntingly beautiful, really… You could get lost out there on the moors and find your own private little world. There are a few experiments I'd like to perform before we leave…"

"Experiments?" John asked.

"Yes, I believe I owe you a few experiments, don't I? That was the agreement?" Sherlock replied grinning cheekily.

John smiled, "That was the agreement."

Sherlock leant across the table and took John's hands in his own. He kissed John tenderly on the lips.

John gazed into Sherlock's eyes and sighed, "People will talk."

"Let them. People do little else, my dear Dr Watson."


End file.
